


i might be your happy ending

by etotheswan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/F, jealous!Regina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 10:30:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2769728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etotheswan/pseuds/etotheswan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are holding a bag full of gifts and the apple pie you made - which doesn’t make a lick of sense, because why oh why would Snow want you to make an apple pie for Christmas Eve dinner is beyond you - and standing at the door, willing yourself to knock, to put on a brave face and just knock, when the door swings open. There’s a very real feeling of magic snapping to your fingers as you stare, eyebrow raised, at the pirate who opened the door. Of course he’s here…</p><p>“The evil que-”</p><p>“If you value your life at all,” you cut him off, raising your chin slightly to appear much more dangerous than you feel these days, “you won’t finish that sentence.” You tap the toe of your left heel on the wood floor outside of the apartment and revel just slightly in the way that his demeanor changes and his shoulders fall just enough to make him look like the scumbag he really is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i might be your happy ending

**Author's Note:**

> I have been wanting to write a Jealous!Regina ficlet/oneshot and also something Christmasy, so here it is!

You have prided yourself on always having a plan. Always. But going to David and Snow’s for Christmas Eve dinner has never been part of your plan and honestly, you aren’t really sure why you’re headed over there.

Well, you are sure. It was Henry. It’s always Henry. _Always_.

His big eyes and the way he said _please, mom_ like he knew you’d only consider if he begged a little bit. He knows you. He really does.

You are holding a bag full of gifts and the apple pie you made - which doesn’t make a lick of sense, because why oh _why_ would Snow want you to make an _apple pie_ for Christmas Eve dinner is beyond you - and standing at the door, willing yourself to knock, to put on a brave face and just _knock_ , when the door swings open. There’s a very real feeling of magic snapping to your fingers as you stare, eyebrow raised, at the pirate who opened the door. _Of course he’s here_ …

“The evil que-”

“If you value your life at all,” you cut him off, raising your chin slightly to appear much more dangerous than you feel these days, “you _won’t_ finish that sentence.” You tap the toe of your left heel on the wood floor outside of the apartment and revel just slightly in the way that his demeanor changes and his shoulders fall _just enough_ to make him look like the scumbag he really is.

“Killian, is that Regina?”

And you feel your stomach drop to your knees, because that voice? That voice that’s connected to that woman? All of it is exactly why you didn’t want to come today. And you still aren’t sure why you are feeling this way and you can’t quite put your finger on when it all changed, but it _has_ and it’s infuriating.

“Regina,” Emma says, a smile coming to her face as she walks up beside Hook in her jeans and cream colored turtle neck, cable knit sweater and you hate that seeing her takes your breath away. You notice the way her facial expression shifts when he slides his arm around her waist. The move should have come across as loving and familiar, but looked far more territorial and forceful than expected.

“Hi,” you say as you try not to sound too happy, because you _aren’t_ happy. Not at all. This doesn’t make you happy. Watching the pirate with Emma does not make you _happy_ and you can’t for the life of you figure out _why_. “I brought the pie your mother asked me to bring.”

“Apple?” Emma asks, an eyebrow arching and her lopsided grin coming to those pink lips you really can’t stop thinking about.

You smile, smile, breathe, and think about poofing away from here because this is already uncomfortable and you’ve only been here thirty seconds. “Of course,” you finally respond. Emma steps to the side and you notice the way she shrugs Hook’s arm away from her. It gives you the slightest bit of hope, but not too much, because you know what _hope_ does to a person. Hope exists to encourage saps and _Charmings_ and you are _not_ and never will be a Charming, regardless of how united you all are as a team and a kingdom.

When you get into the apartment, Henry comes racing over towards you and launches into your arms only seconds after Emma has relieved you of the pie. Thankfully, otherwise it’d be on the floor and even though the old you would have delighted in tainting a pie to fuck with the Charmings, this new you would have felt awful.

And this new you is someone you’re _kind of_ liking… In a really weird way.

You’re not nearly as angry and upset all time… Even though sending Robin and Marian over the townline with Roland was heartbreaking, something you didn’t think you’d recover from, you’ve actually bounced back quite well.

And maybe it’s Henry’s fault.

Because he’s been the perfect son, supportive and caring and it’s still hard to accept the fact that you deserve all of his love and affection. But you _do_ deserve it. And he’s there for you. _Always_.

But it could also be Emma’s fault.

Because she’s been the perfect _friend_ and dammit, you were never supposed to be _friends_ with the only person that can _stop the darkness_ … Or were you? That thought makes the butterflies in your stomach spring to life with the velocity of a hundred tornadoes.

“Regina, I am so happy that you came,” Snow says as she whisks over towards you, baby Neal in her arms. She transfers him smoothly to you and the bubbly smile that springs to his chubby cheeks warms your heart almost instantly.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” you reply while staring at baby Neal and believe it or not, it still blows you over that you’re _here_ with _Snow White and Prince Charming and their baby._ And you’re not trying to kill them. Or cursing their first born.

And speaking of first borns… You glance over at Emma who is now sitting on one of the stools by the kitchen island, Hook staring at her while she drinks from a bottle of beer and it makes you want to scream a little bit.

Just a _little_.

Queens rarely _scream_ over idiotic blondes with stupid pirate boyfriends.

Right?

But then he puts his hook up under her chin and tilts her face to look at him and dammit, you find yourself locking your magic up in your brain because who the hell knows what you could do if you don’t get these feelings under control.

You tear your eyes away from them and look down at the baby and smile. “It must be nice, being a baby and not having to deal with these peasants,” you whisper and he smiles back at you, gurgles and then giggles.

“Mom?”

“Yes?” Henry wraps an arm around your shoulders. He’s tall enough now to do it with little effort and although it scares you how fast he’s growing, it also warms your heart.

“I’m happy you came tonight. I know you didn’t really want to.”

“I wanted to be here with you,” you reply. “You’re the only person in my life that matters, young man.”

He smiles and leans his head against yours. “Mom?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry about Robin. I don’t know if I said it before, y’know, after it all happened.”

You look at him, baby Neal in your arms, and you feel your heart clench in your chest. “Oh, honey,” you start, breathless, “it’s okay.”

“I know, but you were… well, _whatever…_ with him. And I mean, I know it was hard for you.” He takes a deep breath and you see how his lip trembles the tiniest of bits. “And it was hard for me, too. Seeing you with Roland. I mean, I never had to share you before. I was your little prince or whatever. And I just… It was hard. But I know you loved them both… So, I’m sorry you had to say goodbye. Even though I didn’t really understand all of it with his wife and yeah, that part was _kinda crazy_.”

You feel yourself smiling at him. The kind of smile you don’t think you could hold back if you tried. It’s big and broad and your eyes are filling with tears when you use your free hand to lay it against the side of his face. “Henry, honey, you don’t have to worry about me. I will be fine. And yes, it was a messed up situation.”

“That’s putting it lightly.”

You look towards Emma’s voice as she takes the last few steps towards you and Henry and the baby. She reaches down and runs two fingers over Neal’s forehead and then looks at you, her green eyes locking onto your dark ones and it’s just _too fucking much_. “Yeah, well, you’re the one that brought her back,” you finally say after a deep breath and with just the right amount of snark that you know she won’t take it the wrong way.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Emma sighs.

“To make me jealous… Isn’t that right?” A deep red fills Emma’s cheeks and you can’t help but smile at her.

“Ma,” Henry laughs. “That’s so mean!”

“Oh, come on, I didn’t really do it for that reason.” Emma tilts her head and looks at you. “You know that, right?”

It’s not fair, really, the way your breath catches in your throat and your heart squeezes itself inside the walls of your chest every time she looks at you like that, yet... it still happens. And yeah, there’s a part of yourself that is fairly positive this is your punishment for cursing a kingdom to live in this world. This. _Her_. All of this. Your feelings and her eyes and that hair. All of it is your punishment. Add _the pirate_ to the list and honestly, a prison cell with no daylight and bread and water would be far more enjoyable and not nearly as harsh. “I know,” you finally reply, although it comes out as a whisper and the way Emma’s face softens and her eyes glance down at your lips makes the hair on the back of your neck stand straight up.

“Can I hold Neal, mom?” Henry asks and you transfer the baby to Henry’s young arms with ease, reminding him to cradle the head and watch his neck. “I know, I know,” Henry says softly as he walks away with the baby, leaving Emma standing next to you.

“Here,” Emma says, a glass of white wine appearing in her hand, expertly.

“You’ve been practicing,” you say, a smile forming on your lips as you reach for the glass.

“I had a great teacher.”

“If you _even_ say it was that Elsa woman, I will throttle you.”

Emma laughs, a hearty laugh that you haven’t heard from her in quite some time. “I do love how jealous you get,” she says when she settles down. Her eyes are truly happy and it nauseates you to think that Hook is the reason behind that happiness.

“Me?!” A gasp follows and you find that you’re speechless. You take a long drink from the wine glass and then shake your head back and forth slowly. “I am _not_ jealous.”

“Admit it,” Emma prods. She reaches forward then and gently tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear. It’s far from a _friendly gesture_ and you hate her a little for it, but mostly you just love her for it and that scares you so much it takes your breath away.

You finally find your voice and say _Never_ so quietly that it’s almost as if you didn’t say it at all. You drink from your wine glass again and lock your eyes onto hers over the rim and she raises an eyebrow at you. That’s when you finally ask, “Just how much have you had to drink, Miss Swan?”

She smiles and raises her beer bottle to her lips. “Enough,” she answers before drinking two long swallows.

“Okay, you two, let’s eat,” Snow says from over by the table. “I have laid out place cards for everyone. David, you’re here, at the head of the table, I’m there,” she says, motioning towards the other head. “I hope that’s okay, Regina,” she looks at you, her big eyes pleading.

“It’s your home, dear,” you reassure and the look of relief that washes over her face is something that still makes you laugh inside.

“Emma, I sat you next to me, then Regina and Henry. Killian, you’re next to Emma, okay?”

“Sounds perfect, right, love?” Killian asks from across the room, his eyes practically boring holes into your skull.

Emma shrugs her shoulders, says a halfhearted _Sure_ before pulling her chair out and sitting down. Hook sits down next to her, leans over and places a kiss on her cheek. Emma allows it and maybe that’s the only reason you don’t turn him into a toad immediately. Unfortunately, whether Emma allows it or not, it still makes your stomach turn.

“Okay, everyone, I just want to start this meal off by saying that,” Snow picks up her wine glass and raises it in the air, “We are so happy that we could have this meal together, as a _family_. So, here’s to family.”

You feel Henry’s hand grab onto yours under the table and you glance over at him, his eyes glassy and filling with tears. You squeeze his hand and he leans his head over to lay on your shoulder and dammit, you’re not going to cry right now. You pick up your wine glass and hold it up. “Hear, hear,” you say. “That is a wonderful toast.” Your eyes glance over at Emma and she is looking at you and Henry with those sad eyes that make you want to curl into a ball inside.

* * *

When dinner is finished, and you’ve seen just about enough of Hook looking at Emma like she’s a piece of meat, you stand from the table and volunteer to do the dishes. Snow stands with you, helps you start clearing the table while David leans back in his chair and complains about the way his jeans fit and how his pants from the Enchanted Forest sure gave a lot more in the waist.

As you start rinsing the plates, methodically in circles under the running water, you hear Snow’s gentle throat clearing next to you. You don’t look up at her, because you have a feeling you know what’s coming next and as much as you like this new level you’ve reached with your dead husband’s daughter, you sometimes just hate how _comfortable_ she feels. You spent years trying to murder her and now she thinks you’re friends and even if maybe you are, it’s just _strange_.

“You know we aren’t thrilled with her choice to be with him,” Snow says softly, taking a plate and drying it after you’ve washed it. “It’s her choice, though, and we refuse to be unsupportive.”

“Snow,” you start, handing her another plate, “This is hardly a conversation you and I need to have.”

“I know,” she replies, smugly. “I just see how you look at her. And it’s no longer with hatred.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say, rolling your eyes and trying your hardest to come across as irritated as possible.

She lets out a puff of air while taking another plate from you. “In case you’ve forgotten, I did spend quite a few years growing up around you. I think I probably know you better than anyone else around here.”

“Oh, you think so?”

“Yes,” Snow responds, matter of factly. She switches out the damp towel for a dry one and then takes another clean plate. “I see how she looks at you, too, and you know,” she pauses and places both of her palms on the countertop. “I suppose a part of me tried to bury it, tried to act like it didn’t exist, because how could it be _possible_ , but I saw it. I saw it the first time she said you weren’t dying when that wraith was after you and I saw it the last time you two saved us all.”

You reach forward and turn the water off, wring the dishcloth out and place it on the side of the sink before turning towards her. She’s still drying the last of the dishes and you can see the determination in her face, like this conversation has been a long-time coming and there’s not a damn thing you can say to stop the inevitable.

“She’s our daughter, Regina,” Snow breathes, and then looks over at you. “She’s our _daughter._ ”

You look at Snow’s eyes. The soft curve of them, the eyelashes, the small amount of make-up she has taken to since the birth of baby Neal, and you know she’s being sincere.

“I loved you, Regina,” she starts, tearing her eyes away from you and placing another dry plate onto the stack. “And after everything that happened, I found the woman I loved all those years ago. I can see how Emma found her, too.”

“What are you-”

“What am I saying?” Snow echoes. “Honestly? I have no idea.” She looks at you, smiles, and says, “Just try to remember that Killian is not a diamond and he is _certainly_ not forever.”

You feel the corner of your mouth pull up, and it’s involuntary the way your smile comes to your lips. “Okay,” you nod, your eyes locking onto hers one last time before you help her dry the rest of the dishes in amicable silence.

* * *

“I think it’s time for one gift, wouldn’t you agree?” David asks from the couch. He’s holding a tumbler full of whiskey on the rocks and his speech is slightly slurred and you find him insanely more endearing this way. Tipsy and lovable.

“Yes!” Henry screeches as he shoots up from the floor beside the baby seat where Neal is drifting in and out of consciousness. “I’ll pass out the gifts. Just one, right?”

“Just one,” you echo, sitting back in the chair where you’re sitting, your black stocking covered legs crossed at the knee, your black heel lazily bobbing on your foot. You run a hand through your hair as you instruct Henry where you set your bag of gifts and then watch as he happily starts passing them out.

“Grandma, pops, and you guys can open Neal’s,” Henry comments. “And here are the two from under the tree to you guys.” He hands them their own gifts and they both smile at each other - sickeningly sweet. You fight back an eyeroll and glance over at Emma, who has a pirate whispering something into her ear. The look on Emma’s face is far from excited, but you fight back the urge for the 100th time to throw Hook out the window. “Ma, this is from Mom,” Henry says calmly, placing a small box on Emma’s lap. Hook instantly looks up at you, his eyebrows furrowing and your disgust for him is heard loud and clear when Henry doesn’t hand him a gift.

“Hey, kid, can you give this to your mom?” Emma asks as she hands a box over to Henry. He smiles as he transfers the package to you, an eyebrow arched just like yours does.

Your eyes look from Emma’s to Snow’s and then back to Emma’s. She’s smiling at you, half drunk, half happy, and it’s enough to make your heart explode in your chest. You tear your eyes away from her as Snow and David tear into their gifts.

Snow holds up a photo album that you put together of all the pictures you had taken since the birth of baby Neal. Her eyes are full of tears of when she blinks, they start sliding down her face. She smiles at you, holds the album to her chest and whispers, “Thank you.”

David opens his gift and a grin plasters onto his face at the leatherman’s tool inside. “Regina, this is awesome. It has so many gadgets.”

“There’s a case that attaches to your belt, too,” you add before you take a drink of your fourth, no, fifth, no, _fourth_ glass of wine. You hiccup. _Shit. Fifth_.

“Emma, you’re next,” Snow prods, smiling broadly.

She leans forward, tries to wiggle away from Hook’s grasp, and then situates herself with the box on her lap. When she slides the ribbon off of the box and tears the paper away, her eyes are beautiful. They’re dancing and laughing, and as soon as she opens the box and pulls out the photo album, her eyes stop and look up at you. “Regina,” she whispers. “Is this…?”

“It’s every picture I have ever taken of Henry,” you respond, your voice catching in your throat when you say his name. “I gave you memories, but I never gave you pictures. So, I thought now is as good a time as ever.” You watch as she flips through the pages, running her fingers delicately over some of the earlier ones, smiling at the ones in the middle, tearing up and covering her mouth when she gets to a few later pictures.

She closes the album and looks at Henry and then back at you. “Thank you,” she whispers again. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You smile at her, and everything inside of you wants to hug her, wants to wrap your arms around her and tell her that you’ll share more than memories and pictures with her if only she’d give you the chance.

“Your turn, mom,” Henry pokes at your leg affectionately. “Go on.”

You have two gifts in your lap, one from Snow and David and the other from Emma. You decide to save Emma’s for last, because what if it’s something amazing… Your fingers work quickly to remove the paper, without tearing it of course, and then slide the box top off. There’s a framed beautifully intricate painting of a horse running through a field and down in the lower right hand corner are the initials M.M. You look up at Snow. “Is this…?”

“That’s your horse. I painted it when I was… well, when we were cursed… But I know now that it’s Rocinante. And I want you to have it.”

“Snow,” you cover your mouth with your hand. “It’s beautiful,” come your muffled words. You stare at the painting for a few seconds longer before you put it to the side and then look down at the small box that’s from Emma. After a few short breaths, and no eye contact with Emma, you carefully pull the ribbon and then work with the tape on the ends of the box.

“Oh, my God, just rip the paper off,” Emma says with a laugh. “You’ll never use it again.”

“She never rips the paper,” Henry comments. “Willpower, man.”

You smile as you get the paper off with minimal rips, glance up at Emma, who’s leaning forward, elbows on her knees, and Hook, who is leaning back and has the most disgruntled look ever on his face. It brings you great joy as you bring your attention back to the box. When you slide off the lid, there’s a gold necklace with a small locket on it. “Emma,” you say quietly, pick up the locket and gently open it. There’s a picture of Henry on one side and then an inscription on the other. _Thank you for being the best teacher I could ever ask for._ You look up at her and she’s smiling at you, her eyes shining. “Thank you so much,” you say, your voice cracking.

She smiles, leans back and immediately Hook’s arm is across her shoulders and she’s leaning her head into his and it makes you want to die inside. You look away, back at the locket, and instead of putting it on immediately, you place the box lid back on and set it next to the picture. Henry puts his hand on your leg and smiles.

“Our gifts tomorrow, right?”

You smile back at him, place a hand on his face and then lift his chin with two of your fingers. “You got it, my little prince.”

“Good,” he says, beaming. He leans against your legs and you try your hardest to clamp down the urge to cry.

* * *

You’re back at 108 Mifflin, Henry tucked in and sound asleep, when you pour yourself a nightcap and sit down in your study next to the roaring fire in the fireplace. You take a sip of the scotch, hold it in your mouth for a second before you swallow and then breathe out. It hurts your teeth a little and you quickly take another sip to stop the ache.

The night was wonderful. It really was. And Snow’s gift was beautiful and Emma’s gift… Emma…

You hear a knock at the front door and you quickly check the clock above the mantle. It’s late and you honestly have no idea who it could be. You tie your robe tighter around your waist and walk quickly to the door, run a hand through your hair and then slowly crack open the door. “Emma?” you ask. “What are you doing here?” You open the door the rest of the way. She has her hands jammed into her navy blue wool coat and a cream knitted beanie pulled over her head and ears. Her hair is spilling out of it and dammit, she looks beautiful, even at 1:53 in the morning.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she explains, shrugging her shoulders. “I just… Can I come in?”

“Of course,” you answer, and close the door behind her after she walks in. She looks around at all of your Christmas decorations and smiles, breathes in deep and then looks at you. “Are you okay?” you ask.

“Yeah, I just,” she goes to take a step and stumbles a bit. “Whoa, sorry. I’m still a little tipsy.”

“Did you walk here, I hope?”

She smiles and nods her head. “Yes, I walked. Well, I tried to magic myself over here, but I crashed into Gold’s store first. I don’t think I should practice magic while intoxicated,” Emma laughs and you can’t help but chuckle with her.

“Did you break anything?”

“Yeah,” Emma responds, laughing even harder. “I just, I don’t know.”

“Do you want to come sit down? I’m sure you’re cold,” you say, as you place a hand on her forearm and pull her gently towards the study.

“Yeah.” She follows you, her boots clicking on the wood floor, your slippers scuffing, as well. She unzips her coat and shrugs it off, lays it over the back of the couch and then pulls her beanie from her head. She smoothes her hands over her hair, gets rid of the static electricity, and then sits down on the couch.

You aren’t sure about offering her a drink, so when you sit down, you slide your bottle of water towards her. “You want that?” you ask, and she looks down at the water and then at your drink. She reaches for your scotch, picks it up and takes a long drink from it and dammit, all you can do is envy that glass and how it’s pressed against those lips.

“Did you like your necklace?” she asks, suddenly.

“I loved it, Emma,” you reply without hesitation. “Did you like your -”

“I loved it,” she breathes, leans forward and props her elbows on her knees. Her hair falls forward and creates a curtain so you can’t really see her face. “I don’t know what’s happening, Regina.”

“Well, you’re drunk,” you explain, a smile forming on your lips. You reach towards her and gently move her hair from her face and she looks over to you. “I know you’re no stranger to being drunk.” Your words come out as a whisper and her eyes are staring into yours.

“I’m with Killian,” she says, almost to herself more than to you, but you still nod and say that you know. “But I can’t stop… thinking about you.”

Again, you nod, say that you know, because you _do know._

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispers, her eyes welling with tears.

“Emma,” you whisper, your voice cracking from the emotion. “I can’t do this again… be someone’s mistress… I can’t do it again.”

“I know.”

She turns towards you, though, and when her hands reach for yours, you close your eyes at the touch, because that familiar feeling of flying and the taste of cinnamon and the smell of lavender is literally more addictive than _performing_ magic, and just the _feel_ of your combined power coursing through your veins is intoxicating, and you hate it and love it and _dammit_ , this is too _fucked_ beyond words.

“Admit it, though,” she breathes, and you open your eyes to find that her face is much closer to yours now and her lips are so pink and you can smell the alcohol on her breath and why, oh why, does she smell so _wonderful_?

“Admit what?” You voice comes out strained and you have to clamp down the soft moan that is rising up your throat when you feel her fingertips stroking the soft skin on the underside of your wrist.

“That you’re jealous, because,” she pauses, takes a deep breath, “because I was. I was so jealous… of him, of how he got to touch you and kiss you,” she whispers the last part and her forehead is leaning against yours now. “And he got to see you… and I was _so_ jealous.”

Her admission makes your heart hurt and your hands ache and you whisper, “You didn’t act like it.”

“Why do you think I’m with him?”

“Emma…”

“I better go,” she says as she goes to get up and you hold onto her hand, not letting her move. She turns her head to look at you, pleads with her eyes for you to just let her go.

“I admit it,” you say softly.

And that’s when she does what you would have never had the courage to before. She leans in towards you with as much confidence as she has always had around you and before you know it, her soft lips are landing on yours and shit, shit, _shit_ , you let yourself be the mistress again.

But this time? It doesn’t feel like something you should be ashamed of. And it’s only when she pulls away from you, places two soft kisses on your lips and says she’d better go that you realize this is going to be a lot harder than you’d ever imagined.

When you’re standing at the door with her, she leans in again, kisses your cheek, then moves closer to your lips. You can feel her smiling against your skin and you pull away and say, “Miss Swan, is something funny?”

She looks down at your lips and then back up into your eyes before saying, “You realize I might be your happy ending?”

You are speechless when she opens the door and smiles at you before leaving you standing there at 2:46 am on Christmas day.


End file.
